


In Life

by General_Button



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Scene from Bonus Chapter 5 of Bound, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mpreg, With A Twist, birth scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 16:13:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16768516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/General_Button/pseuds/General_Button
Summary: “He’s gone,” Purvak said. She may as well have shouted it for the way the words carved into Sendak’s chest.





	In Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IsabelleLux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IsabelleLux/gifts).



> Commission for IsabelleLux who wanted to tear my heart out with an alternate scene where Shiro dies during the birth scene of [Bound](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15264948). I may have shed one or two tears, but I do love these characters, so. Full commission in the bottom notes.

Sendak could feel all of it.

He could feel Shiro’s fear. He could sense his pain, an endless torrent of feeling that made rage boil up in the center of Sendak’s chest. Shiro was screaming, his voice cracking with the effort of the labor. That same pain fizzled in Sendak’s chest, and then exploded; he lurched forward, reaching for Shiro, desperate to take it from, but there was nothing he could do. The pain inside him was only an echo—a shared feeling and a mere inkling of what Shiro felt.

He watched as Purvak knelt between his legs, forcing himself not to move as she repeated the same phrase over and over.

“Just breathe with me. Come on, Shiro, breathe. You’re doing great.”

“I can’t,” Shiro sobbed, twisting in his seat, flashing his pale throat. Tears trailed down his cheeks. He was bathed in sweat, the stench of his blood flooding Sendak’s nostrils. “I can’t, it hurts, I can’t. Don’t make me do this anymore. _I can’t.”_

The rage continued to boil. Sendak’s fists curled.

He barely remembered the moments in between Shiro’s cries. He recalled that he sat near him, stroking his face and neck, trying to soothe what parts of him he could. Shiro’s eyes flashed at him, bright with a righteous, fiery anger.

“Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you for doing this to me. Oh my _god.”_

Sendak gazed down at Shiro, and he thought, _you are my love,_ but he could not say the words. His mouth refused to form the sounds that would explain to Shiro just how much he meant to him—how much Sendak would do anything to take it away if he could.

When the twins were born, Sendak could barely remember what he first felt. Elation, perhaps, buried underneath the mountain of pain and terror.

The most vivid of memories were from Shiro, whose pain continued intermittently, coming at Sendak from all ends. It made him angrier than anything he had ever felt, knowing that his mate was suffering so and that there was nothing he could do.

His rage had nowhere to go, and so it stayed bottled, until he could hold it no more and he lashed out, reaching for Purvak, growling in between half-chewed words.

“You will hand over my daughters,” he roared, struggling furiously in the Blade’s grasps, “or I will tear you to shreds!”

It was because he was so focused on trying to protect Shiro that he almost missed the way he started to slip away.

When Sendak stopped growling and twisting in the Blade’s hold to try and reach Purvak, he finally took notice of how faint the bond was ringing. He whipped around, turning so sharply his shoulder gave a painful twinge.

Shiro was lying deathly pale on the table. His chest rose and fell, but his breaths were shallow, his face screwed in pain.

There was so much _blood._

A cry sounded to his left. Sendak watched as Purvak struggled to hold onto two tiny, squirming bodies.

His children. Their children.

“Allura!” Purvak snapped, forgoing her title. She had taken a step towards Shiro as if to give the twins to him, but now she was shooting panicked glances in Shiro’s direction. “Help me with these two. I need you to hold them while I get Shiro into a pod. He’s losing too much blood.”

“Is he—” Allura stopped, then nodded, walking over quickly to take the twins. “Of course. Go. Help him.”

“I’m planning on it!”

_Shiro?_

He was lying still. His breathing had become even more shallow, and when Purvak knelt between his thighs, he let out a quiet moan.

_Shiro. Shiro, answer me._

Shiro’s eyelids fluttered like he wanted to open them. His head lolled to the other side. There was a cry from the other end of the room.

“Shiro,” Sendak said, too quiet to be heard.

There had been times that Sendak had been terrified that Shiro would die. During all those moments, Shiro had been in a place far away that he could not reach. Now that he was close, right there in front of him, his mind was blank, all the pleas and bargains he could offer failing to rise. He could only stare as Shiro was tended to, and then lifted, being carried over to a healing pod.

That was when the spell broke, and Sendak lurched in the Blade’s grip with a renewed vengeance.

“Release me!” he roared, taking a single step and forcing the Blades holding him to follow. “Let me go to my mate!”

The crying that he had been faintly aware of became suddenly louder; a piercing wail that had Sendak turning his head to look at his daughters being tended to by Allura. Another separate pod had been brought out, and she was moving one of them into it before reaching for the other.

Purvak was still standing in front of Shiro’s pod, chewing on her knuckle while she read the on-screen results. From where he was standing, Sendak couldn’t see Shiro.

He felt torn asunder, two paths in front of him, both of which he couldn’t hope to follow for the hands holding him in place. He prodded at the bond; the lack of response made him twist harder, taking another step. One of the Blades holding him grunted, swearing.

“What is his condition,” Sendak said, trying to keep his voice level. Purvak started, like she’d only just realized he was there, and shook her head.

“It’s—I don’t know. He lost a lot of blood. There’s some internal bleeding. We have to wait.”

“You will ensure that he survives,” Sendak said lowly. “You will make certain he lives, or I will—”

“You knew the risks,” she interrupted, a sharp note of irritation in her voice. It softened when she met his eyes. “You knew this wouldn’t be easy. All we can do is _wait,_ so stop threatening me or get out.” 

He tried to bottle up his rage, or compartmentalize it, but Shiro was lying still in the pod, pale, so _pale,_ and his presence, it was—

Sendak froze, his blood turning to ice.

Gone. It was _gone._

“Allura! I need you over here. _Now!”_

“What?” The sound of footsteps. Sendak was staring at the floor, trying desperately to reach Shiro, to claw his way into his mind. “The pod…it isn’t working. He’s healing but it’s not—"

“We’re losing him. Get another one, just in case.”

There were voices around him and someone was shouting, but all Sendak could focus on was the bond.

 _Shiro,_ he thought, gritting his teeth. _Shiro! Our daughters, they are waiting for you. I am waiting for you._

A flicker of awareness. Sendak reached for it, but it slipped away.

“No, no, _quiznak._ You there! Open that other pod!”

The hand on his right arm fell away. Sendak remained frozen in the same spot.

 _Shiro._ _Shiro._

The voices around him faded in and out.

_Shiro._

“We’re losing him, w-we’re…it’s not _working.”_

_…Shiro?_

Sendak had thought he knew what it felt like to lack the presence of his mate. He had assumed—foolishly so—that the distance that had stretched between them after Shiro’s disappearance was the worst of it.

That couldn’t even compare to what he felt now.

He felt…nothing.

Whereas Shiro’s presence had once served as a constant, even when they had served timed apart, he was now alone. Sendak tried to reach for the other side of the bond; grip the tethers with imaginary hands so he could find Shiro and pull him in, but he was—there was—

Nothing.

There was nothing.

The world dropped out from under him.

Sendak’s vision began to curl around the edges.

 _No, no, no, nonono. Shiro. Shiro, answer me. Answer me, Shiro. You_ will _answer me!_

If he tried hard enough, he could reach him. He could find him; he could find Shiro. He would be made well, and they would have their family, just as Shiro had hoped.

Sendak blinked at the sound of a cry. Somehow, at some point, he had slumped to his knees. Arms were holding him down, pressing him into the ground. He looked up at the pod holding Shiro and saw Allura with her hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. Purvak’s eyes were shining, but she was working on the pod, biting at her thumb with her canines.

The air smelled thickly of Shiro and blood. The floor under his knees was cold.

He suddenly could not stand another moment of being touched by these—these traitorous creatures. Sendak leapt to his feet and broke free, plunging his elbow into the abdomen of one of them before sprinting for the pod Shiro was in.

“Sendak—” Allura began, but he ignored her, staring at the display to see if he could find a simple way to open it.

“Sendak,” Purvak said, her voice low, soothing, as if he needed _soothing_ when Shiro was—when he needed him. “I need you to calm down.”

Sendak’s claws scraped down the glass as he attempted to wrench it open by force. He wasn’t even aware that he was growling, trembling with a rage so fierce that when he felt a hand touch his back he lashed out, claws eager to strike who had dared touch him when all he wanted to do was reach his _mate._

His felt the air displace as his claws struck the open air. He met Allura’s eyes. He couldn’t speak, his chest heaving with breaths that would not take, eyes moving back to skate the length of the pod where Shiro was still inside.

Allura’s voice sounded muffled, as if she was very far away. Then the pod slid open, and Sendak frozen, unprepared for the sight of his mate lying still inside, so much paler than Sendak remembered from a moment ago. There was blood pooling around his legs, scent sharp and unnatural.

“Shiro.” He reached out tentatively, hand hovering just over Shiro’s face. “Shiro? Shiro, you—wake him. Someone…someone _wake him!”_

“Sendak.” It was Allura’s voice.

“Why are you standing there? Turn it back on!”

Sendak slammed his hand over the console, pressing the buttons he hoped would start up the healing process. Allura reached for his arm, but he waved her off.

“You’re wasting time!”

“Sendak,” Allura said, trembling but firm. “Sendak, stop. _Sendak.”_

No, no, no, no, no.

They had not survived countless battles just to lose it all here. Sendak would not give up, he would not—

“He’s gone,” Purvak said. She may as well have shouted it for the way the words carved into Sendak’s chest.

He remembered very little of what happened after that.

There were voices, and people attempting to pull him away. They would not stop, even after he had exhausted himself trying to claw through their hold and reach Shiro.

His mate. Shiro. _Shiro._

It was only when Purvak shoved something small in his arms that he stilled, instinct the only reason that he did not immediately toss aside what they had given him. A soft, mewling cry sounded from the bundle on the left.

“That one is Ellar,” Allura said waveringly. She wiped a few stray tears out of her eyes and reached to adjust the babe’s placement in his arms. “Hold them like—like this.”

She sniffled again, and then her lip began to tremble. Eventually she turned away, and Purvak took her place, her expression grim.

“This is never easy,” she began, gazing up at him in a way he could not bear.

 _Do not look at me like that,_ he wanted to scream. _Do not look at me like there is something to pity!_

“Take them away from me.”

Purvak stroked her fingers along the cheek of the human babe—the one that looked most like Shiro. Something in Sendak’s chest wound itself into a knot.

“He—Shiro told me her name.”

The knot became tighter and _tighter._

“Take them away,” he tried to shout, but the words wheezed past his lips, and he suddenly felt as if all the strength had seeped out of his limbs. The children felt like lead in his arms, weighing him down. His arms began to tremble.

“Ayame,” Purvak said. “He…kept repeating it, before he went into the pod. He asked me to—” Purvak stopped, pressing her lips together. Her throat bobbed. “He wanted you to know. I’m sorry.”

It felt like he was being squeezed from the inside out. Sendak had never known that it could feel like this. He had never understood it.

Just moments ago, Sendak had thought, _you are my love,_ but he did not say the words. He had assumed that Shiro had heard him, that he would know and understand, but what was said in the space of his head didn’t matter when there was no other occupant to hear it.

If he had known, if there had been any way to prepare himself, Sendak would have done everything in his power to prevent it. He would have said the words, spoken them aloud a thousand times over if it meant that Shiro would still be there with him.

He would always regret that the last word Shiro had said to him were about the pain that Sendak had caused; how it was all his doing.

* * *

Sendak was not there when the other paladins learned of their leader’s death.

He heard the red paladin’s, Keith’s, screams echo, but he felt strangely immune to it. He was still holding onto the children, lying so warm and so heavily in his arms that he could not spare the attention.

Ellar swung her fist in the air, bumping it against Sendak’s chest. She burbled, blinking her wide eyes up at him, pupils glimmering with fresh, newfound delight. They were already so active for having just been born.

He was not certain what emotions he was meant to be experiencing.

Sendak gazed in the faces of his children and felt only a great, yawning void where he expected his feelings to be. Like the knot sitting in his chest, when he looked at them, he felt muddled confusion mixed with a longing and acute grief.

Shiro was gone.

Sendak had been taught how to hold the twins, and how to feed them, but he felt an absence inside himself that could not be filled.

Shiro was gone.

It was not fair to them. They had just been born, and Sendak was well aware of the words Shiro would have had with him if he were to hear the thoughts running through Sendak’s head.

But fair did not matter any longer. _Fair_ had no place in a world where he was alone with his thoughts, because Shiro was gone.

Shiro was _dead_.

Sendak had killed him.

He deposited the twins into their cribs. Shiro had chosen them because he liked the color, and the shapes reminded him of Earth. Sendak touched the top bar, feeling numb, and then collapsed back onto the edge of the bed.

The room smelled like Shiro. His presence was written upon every surface; in the rumpled sheets where he had slept the night before; in the hairbrush that had fallen on the floor after Shiro had carelessly tossed it aside; in the scent of his musk from when they had mated. And unlike when he had been missing, Sendak’s mark was weaved in throughout, making the reminder of his absence so much more potent.

The room seemed to close in on him from all sides, but he did not attempt to move.

The paladins had explained to him that staying in their room would help settle the twins since their father would not be there, but that he was not obligated to do so.

“It’s a scent thing,” Pidge explained softly. She had stopped crying some time ago, putting on a brave face that was easy to see through. “It’ll…help them.”

Sendak had stared at her, and then his gaze shifted to the other paladins, huddled in a group. Keith was openly weeping, being comforted by Lance and Hunk, who had wound themselves around him. The scent of an omega in distress was too familiar, his tears too reminiscent of Shiro.

Pidge was still speaking, mentions of obligation and Shiro’s name falling from her lips. Sendak’s body felt raw, flayed open, and after a few ticks, he walked away without listening to hear the rest of what she said.

He buried his head in his hands, refusing to look at his surroundings. Coming to this room had been a mistake, but he did not know what else to _do._

 _Shiro,_ he thought, sending it out into the nether, trying to reach someone that no longer existed.

* * *

Sendak did not sleep. The twins did not allow for it.

The others had offered their aid, but Sendak had sent them all away. The children were his responsibility; they were his burden to bear, after what he had caused.

They needed constant attention, whether it was to be fed, changed, or simply held, lest they scream.

The first time they cried, Sendak did nothing.

As Ayame began to sob, her ear-splitting cry ringing sharply in the air, Sendak stayed where he was, where he had been, sitting at the edge of the bed. Staring. Her cry lengthened, and then grew louder, followed soon by her sister’s.

Sendak could not bear to look at them. He stayed where he was for what felt like eons, staring at the far wall, wondering how he was meant to continue with an existence that no longer mattered when the one person that had made it worth it was _gone._

He jolted when the scent of fresh tears entered his nose. The twins were still crying. So far, he had done nothing to give them the care he needed. Sendak glanced at the clock: a minute had gone by.

It was easy to imagine Shiro scolding him, raising his voice in anger.

_You can’t just leave them there! They can’t do anything for themselves._

Sendak rose to stand jerkily, walking to where the formula and its instructions had been set. He read through them, nonplussed once he realized he would need to heat up the formula in order for them to consume it. That would require a trip to the kitchens, and the girls’ cries were only getting louder.

After a long moment of contemplation, Sendak eventually decided to lay them in their strollers and wheel them there. Thankfully, he did not see anyone on his way, the scent of the castle’s other occupants stale. He did not know what they were doing and he didn’t care.

The kitchens were empty on arrival. Sendak moved to what constituted as their oven and poked through the settings until he reached the one that Pidge had engineered specifically for the baby formula that had been hand-crafted due to the twins’ galra-human physiology.

It was intended for if Shiro did not feel up to breastfeeding for any reason. Sendak had never expected to use it because it was the only option.

He dragged his hand down his face and tried to breathe. After successfully doing so, he shoved the bottles in the oven and then waited for them to heat up. Once it was heated through he picked up Ayame, the one who was crying loudest, and began to feed her.

Ellar did not let up the entire time, her face flushed underneath her fuzzy coat. Sendak fed Ayame as hurriedly as possible, and then reached for Ellar. She did not take the bottle immediately, shoving her tiny fists at the nipple, trying to push it away. Soon after Ayame, who had just been fed, started crying once again.

It took half a varga for him to finish feeding them both, and then two vargas before they calmed. By the end of it, a heavy blanket of exhaustion had settled over Sendak’s shoulders, one that he could not shake. He had never felt so worn out by something so _simple_ before, but then again, he had never expected to be alone.

* * *

Waking up in their nest did not offer the same solace it once did. When what little sleep he did get was interrupted by the needy cries of his kits, Sendak’s eye would snap open and he would blink up at the ceiling, his mind foggy and his vision bleary. Then he would turn, pheebs of habit kicking in, expecting to see the gentle peace on his mate’s face as he slept, only to find that he was alone.

He was always going to be alone now.

Sendak heaved himself over the side of the bed and inspected Ellar’s diaper. Soiled.

He brought her over to the changing table and began the arduous process of changing her diaper. It had taken quite a few tries to get right, and the first night he had poured over the resources provided by the princess, refusing any and all attempts from the other paladins to try and help.

He did not know what they had done with Shiro’s body. When he was out, he heard talks of a funeral, and he supposed he should care, but the body did not concern him. Shiro was gone, the body an empty shell. Sendak couldn’t stand the thought of even peering at its sunken face, reconstructed as they had done for countless Galra generals they had graced with the beauty of life one more time so that fools could pretend they were still somewhere in there.

Shiro was _dead._

His ears twitched at a knock on his door. As he walked close, the stench of a Blade member drifted through. Sendak did not recall which one, and when the door slid open, he only recognized that it was the one that had brought the doula to their door.

For an instant a fierce, impenetrable rage filled his chest. His fists curled. Sendak would have loved to drag him to the ground and show him just how much he appreciated everything he had done. Then it faded, and only he felt that same, bone-deep exhaustion that plagued him most days.

“Sendak,” the Blade said, cocking his head. “Your princess informed me you would be here.”

Sendak watched him silently as he stepped inside. He made certain to close the door behind him and walked back over to where he had left Ellar on the changing table. She had begun to fuss, so he reached down and quickly finished putting the new diaper on before he picked her up, settled her against his chest.

“What do you want,” he said, looking up. “If you are here to offer your condolences, then _leave._ ”

The Blade nodded his head at Ellar. “I’m here to offer help.”

“Help,” Sendak spat. “I don’t need your _help.”_

The Blade said nothing. Sendak was still trying to recall his name. Kolak? Kolivan.

“I know,” Kolivan said, his voice so soft Sendak almost didn’t catch it. “But it’s there if you want it. I wouldn’t normally do this, but I’m making an exception for Shiro.”

A roaring sound echoed in Sendak’s head at the mention of Shiro’s name.

“I told him I wanted to ensure the livelihood of these children, and I meant it. Anything you need, we will do our best to provide. And for the record,” he clamped his hand down on Sendak’s shoulder, blind to the turmoil inside him, “I’m sorry. I wish it could have been any other way.”

He truly did sound sorry, but Sendak couldn’t bring himself to care. He said nothing, jerking his shoulder out from under Kolivan’s touch. The roaring hadn’t stopped, only growing louder the longer that Kolivan stood next to him.

“The funeral will be public,” Kolivan continued. “Allura doesn’t think it’s wise to hide the death of a paladin. I respect it, although I don’t agree.”

“Leave,” Sendak said, managing the word through clenched teeth.

There was a soft sigh from his right, and then the quiet footsteps of Kolivan walking away. The door slid shut, leaving Sendak alone in a room surrounded by the scent of his mate; the room that he had not left in a pathetic attempt to stave off the inevitability and keep the scent inside while it faded, day by day, night by night, driving him closer towards the his deepest and greatest fear yet: not remembering what he smelled like at all.

Something tugged sharply at his cheek, and Sendak opened his eyes.

Before he had become aware of it, he had lowered his head, bringing his cheek fur in reach of Ellar, who had taken hold of it eagerly. Her eyes were wide, her pupils contracting as she wound her fingers around the fur and tugged at it, smiling in delight. She burbled, reaching with her other hand, tiny fingers wriggling for something to grab. Her ears flicked to and fro, listening to the sounds in the room.

This close, her scent drifted up into his nose. At first, she’d smelled like Shiro and his scent mixed together, but that had faded, and now she smelled completely of her own scent. Sendak stroked his finger along her cheek and was startled when she nuzzled it sweetly. Then she opened her mouth and attempted to bite it.

Sendak breathed, and it was like taking a breath of fresh air. When he met her eyes, he felt like he was seeing her for the first time.

Ellar flinched at the drop that landed on her cheek. Another fell, and she began to blink in rapid succession, a petulant frown forming on her face. Sendak’s vision was too clouded by his tears to notice. He curled forward, stroking Ellar’s face as tears trailed down his cheeks.

Shiro had called him an ‘ugly crier.’

He would cry in any number of unbecoming ways to have him back now. Instead, he clung to his daughter and grit his teeth against the rush of sorrow, until the knot in his chest wound so tight that he struggled to breathe, choking on a sob.

Ellar started fussing while he cried, her eyes starting to shine with a fresh wave of tears. Her nose would be sharp at even such a young age, and Sendak had no doubt that she could smell his grief. He used his prosthetic hand to wipe at his eyes, freeing his vision just enough so he could walk over, reach down into Ayame’s crib, and pick her up as well.

Once he had her in hand, he brought both twins against his chest, curling his palms over the backs of their heads. They were warm. Sendak had never noticed just how much. Ellar clung to his fur, whimpering into his chest, and he pressed a kiss to her head, blinking against another wave of tears.

Sendak sat down on the edge of the bed and held the twins until he stopped crying and his tears dried, long after they had fallen asleep against his chest. He held them until his arms trembled and ached from the strain, until Ayame woke, looking up at a him with a face so full of life that he wondered why he hadn’t seen it before.

* * *

“Oh. Sendak.”

Sendak looked up from where he’d been adjusting the twins’ onesies on the floor of the castle living room. Hunk was standing at the door, hovering at the entrance indecisively. Sendak grunted a greeting, then went back to the twins. They had just been changed and getting them back in their clothing was a task and then some.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

Sendak said nothing. Cooping himself up in Shiro’s room would not let the twins acclimate themselves to the environment, no matter how much he detested air that didn’t smell of Shiro. If time and space permitted, he would like to take them out into the open.

He could imagine Shiro standing at his side, smiling down at the babes cuddled at his breast out in the open, hair windswept.

 _They’re so beautiful,_ he would say, and then he would turn that smile onto Sendak.

Sendak felt his throat close and fought to clear it.

“What did you need,” he said, phrasing it more like a demand. Hunk stepped inside, having come to a decision, and then walked over to Sendak, settling down on the couch opposite.

“Nothing important. Just needed a second to sit down.” He coughed, then continued in a tone of false cheer. “So! How are the cuties doing today?”

Sendak shrugged. He was finding it difficult to draw enough emotion to react to what Hunk was saying. His words registered, but he felt numb to them. He reached down to pick up them both, scooping them into his arms using the technique he had recently acquired.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Hunk mused. “Handling two of them must be difficult. You know we’re here if you need any help.”

“I am aware.” Sendak had said it enough times that his irritation had faded somewhat upon hearing it. “I don’t need help. They are my responsibility.”

Hunk pressed his lips together, and Sendak carefully stood, moving to sit on the couch now that both of them were dressed. They sat in silence for a time, with Sendak holding Ayame and Ellar, stroking the back of their heads and Hunk watching them.

Sendak barely paid him any mind, entirely focused on the warm bodies in his arms.

Their warmth had become a comfort to him. This same warmth had once lived within Shiro, growing in the swell of his belly.

They were all that he had left of him.

He pressed a kiss to the top of Ayame’s head when she lifted herself higher on his chest, gurgling tiredly. After a tick, he became aware a sniffling sound coming from the other side of the couch, and when he looked over, Hunk was rubbing at his eyes.

“Sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry. Can I…do you think I could just—hug you? For a second.”

Sendak blinked in mild surprise. Aside from Shiro and one memorable moment with Pidge, no one had ever hugged him before. He wasn’t certain of Hunk’s goal, and he wasn’t particularly enthused at the prospect, but he inclined his head.

He tensed at the first touch of Hunk’s hand on his shoulder, forcing himself to relax as Hunk wrapped his arms around him, careful not to jostle the twins.

“I’m sorry,” Hunk rasped. “I know you’re tired of hearing it, but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Sendak swallowed, remaining silent. Hunk’s grip tightened to a squeeze. His fingers dug into Sendak’s shoulder.

“I still can’t believe it,” he said. “I can’t believe he’s gone. And that it’s all your fault.”

Sendak jerked in surprise, gritting his teeth in sudden pain as Hunk squeezed even harder, as if he was trying to burrow his nails into his flesh shoulder. He glared at Hunk with a mixture of shock and fury.

“What is the meaning of this,” Sendak snarled, incapable of freeing one hand while Hunk had him virtually pinned. His eyes blazed, his expression twisted with rage.

“This is your fault,” he said. His grip became even tighter, holding Sendak in place. “You know that, right? You did this. Everything that happened to Shiro was because of you.”

“Release me,” Sendak hissed.

“You know I’m right, Sendak.” Hunk’s face seemed to morph and twist, becoming ghastly and horrifying. “When are you going to admit it? When are you going to see that you don’t deserve to be happy? Everything you’re doing now won’t make up for the hurt you’ve caused. Shiro is _dead!_ And you killed him!”

Sendak cried out, the pain in his shoulder too much to bear. He squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again—

He was staring at the walls of his bedroom, blinking up at the ceiling above his bed.

Sendak sat up with a gasp, grasping at his chest and shoulder, reaching for the twins that had just been lying on his chest and the hand that was digging into his shoulder. He grabbed at it and yanked it away, only to realize that it was…his own hand.

He slowly came back to himself, panting, bathed in sweat. He stared at his hand until it made sense, flexing the digits until the pins and needles from being slept on had faded and it felt like his own again. At some point during his dream he’d grabbed his own shoulder and started digging his claws in. They were covered in flecks of blood.

 _A dream,_ he thought, thick with relief. _It was just a dream. A very vivid dream._

He leaned his head on his hand, trying to catch his breath and calm his quickly beating heart. Ancients, it had been so _real._ He had been living alone, without the comfort of the bond, and Shiro had—

Heart jumping in his throat, Sendak looked to the side and felt intense, all-consuming relief at the sight of Shiro sleeping peacefully at his side, as he had been for many cycles. Shiro was drooling a little, his soft snores drowned out by the sounds of Sendak’s harsh breaths. He was still panting, and the fingers that touched Shiro’s cheek shook.

“Shiro,” he breathed, framing his face with both hands. The bond rang clear and true, the polar opposite of the empty abyss that had been in his dream. He breathed in his scent, repeating his name like a prayer. “Oh Shiro, thank the gods you are alive.”

Shiro’s eyes fluttered open. They were half-lidded and heavy with sleep, and he frowned once he noticed how frazzled Sendak appeared.

“Sendak?” he slurred, blinking slowly. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Nothing,” Sendak breathed, leaning his forehead into Shiro. “I just had a very vivid dream.”

Understanding dawned in Shiro’s eyes. He slid his palms over the backs of Sendak’s hands, gingerly moving to sit. “Was it the one where I die?”

“You will have to be more specific,” Sendak muttered darkly. He swallowed. “The—the birth. You died giving birth. And I…” He exhaled shakily. “Suffice to say I am relieved it was just a dream.”

Shiro frowned, but he didn’t press him. Sendak wasn’t interested in talking about it; not until he’d come back to himself. He layered gentle kisses across the length of Shiro’s face, pausing to inhale and remind himself of the scent of his mate. Shiro was quiet, petting the sides of his face and shoulders, letting him press him into the sheets and familiarize himself with Shiro. Whenever Sendak had dreams like that, dealing with the aftermath could take some time if Sendak felt especially agitated.

“I’m here,” Shiro said at length. He kissed Sendak, opening his mouth so he could deepen it. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“I know.” Sendak wrapped his arms around Shiro’s middle and drew him flush. “Though my mind does love to torment me.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” He smirked. “Aside from the obvious.”

Sendak hesitated. His eyes strayed to the baby monitor sitting on Shiro’s nightstand.

“I would like to see the children.”

Shiro’s face softened and he nodded. “Yeah, let’s go see them.”

They slipped out of bed and into the room adjacent where the twins were sleeping. It was still very early in the day’s cycle, so the castle halls were dark. Sendak kept Shiro close at his side, one arm wrapped protectively around his waist.

After they stepped inside, Shiro turned on the lamp at the end of the room while Sendak walked up to their cribs. Ayame was fast asleep, her face screwed from whatever dreams plagued her (hopefully more pleasant than Sendak’s) while Ellar was standing up in her crib, clutching the bars of her crib tightly. From the looks of it, she had just woken, and she burbled happily when Sendak picked her up, immediately taking fistfuls of his fur in hand.

Unlike the dream, she was a year old now, and growing quicker than either of her parents could keep up.

“Hello darling,” he murmured, pressing her close to his chest.

“You’re going to spoil her,” Shiro whispered. He leaned over to check on Ayame, who was still sleeping. “We should get her tucked back into bed. She’s been waking up like this a lot.”

“A moment more.” Sendak did not beg, but it was close. Shiro smiled, walking up to Sendak and hooking his arms loosely around his waist, caging their daughter between them. Ayame snorted softly in her sleep, prompting Shiro to release them and check on her, ensuring once more that she was tucked in tight.

Sendak watched him move, the familiarity of the motions and his mere presence a soothing balm on his heart. And while he did not enjoy the horror his dreams could inflict upon him, they brought forth an appreciation for the life that he had and the three beings that made it all worth it. His family.

“I think we should—” Shiro turned around and then stopped when he saw Sendak’s face. His expression melted. “Oh, Sendak. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sendak rasped, wiping at his eye. “Nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Full commission: Shiro dies from the birth, Sendak struggles to connect with the girls until he does, and at the end it was all a dream! 
> 
> I know some people may not appreciate the "it was all a dream" trope but let me tell you I needed it...


End file.
